


The Starfish Thrower

by completetheory



Category: Transformers: Rescue Bots Academy (Cartoon)
Genre: Captain Planet wins again, Day At The Beach, Ecology, Fluff, Nonbinary Character, Other, Queer Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:55:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22729507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/completetheory/pseuds/completetheory
Summary: Wedge works really, really hard rolling that boulder uphill, and Medix notices.
Relationships: Wedge/Medix
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MadScientific](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadScientific/gifts).



It wasn't Wedge's first rodeo picking up ocean debris. The entire Rescue Bot Recruit team (pending their graduation to Rescue Bot Tau-17) was out in force doing a beach litter pick in between storms. The powerful wind and unsettled ocean dredged up a great deal of dumped plastic, metal, and other litter, including a refrigerator and several mighty planks of chemically treated driftwood. This sort of thing would be a challenge for humans to address as individuals, but no great worry to the larger Cybertronians. Wedge had three of the planks stacked across one shoulder and was reaching for a buried net, one of the deadliest things for local sealife.

"Look what I found!" Whirl skipped up to Wedge to display her finds, "I know you like seaglass, this piece is shaped like a heart! Here, you can have it, because you're a sweetheart." 

Wedge opened his mouth to thank her, but she continued, excitedly, "And these little floaty beads, I thought birds might eat them, but if I collect them I can make a necklace and then everybody wins! Ooh, ooh, and somebody threw this perfectly good shoe away! ...I mean, it _was_ perfectly good... Now it's ...kinda not." 

"Even if it was, don't humans require two shoes?" Medix asked, delicately untangling fishing wire from seaweed. "Throw it away, Whirl. You can't reuse everything." 

Whirl's rotors dipped. "I guess." She waved when Cody appeared over the nearest dune, regaining some enthusiasm. 

"Boulder says you guys can come in now." Cody called. 

Wedge hesitated, unloading the massive chunks of wood into the nearby designated dumpster. "But - I'm not finished. There's still trash." 

Hot Shot snorted. "Jeez, and I thought I was competitive! We can come back another day, big guy. There's no reason to break your suspension over it." 

The groundbridge pulsed into being nearby, and Whirl, Hoist, and Hot Shot filed in behind Cody, but Medix lingered behind and watched Wedge continue to struggle to offload his burden while looking back at the shore. More trash was coming in with the high tide, making their efforts of picking the beach clean appear moot, and Wedge's expression was something Medix couldn't readily identify. The physician really struggled with negative expressions in particular - most positive ones were easy to parse, and occasionally verbal cues helped lend context to what was happening inside their minds. 

"Wedge, what is it?" Medix asked, "We need to leave." 

"There's so much. Look - look at that." Wedge pointed at a seabird, wrapped in fishing wire, very deceased even by Medix's cursory glance and in an advanced state of decomposition. Inside its stomach cavity was... more plastic. Medix took a vent of cool air, and didn't immediately reply. "You go on ahead, tell Professor Boulder I'm finishing up."

Medix was dubious, but complied. The others were all happy to have the rest of the evening off, and while Medix dutifully logged '4.75 large bag deposits of trash' into their arrays, and Whirl began threading beads for her necklace, no one really thought about the beach much beyond that point. It was only when Medix was closing up the lab for the night that they abruptly remembered Wedge, and went to his dorm room to look for him. All the statues of Bumblebee were undisturbed, and so was the bed, with only a small timesheet near the door disturbed since the last time Medix had been in there. 

They transformed and headed back to the groundbridge, verifying from the logs kept there that it had not been activated again, and there were several hours' span in between. "Really..." They said to themself, "I should report this to Professor Heatwave." But Heatwave would only snarl something unpleasant, with an expression Medix had come to realize was impatience, frustration, or some combination. So instead they activated the groundbridge themself - they had that privilege, the override key in case of emergency, after the first year's graduation. 

The sun had almost set by the time Medix located Wedge, still plugging away on the beach. "Wedge, you've been out here all night? You haven't refueled or taken a break?" The full dumpster certainly indicated that.

"I can't." Wedge gestured, then did sit, almost stumbling, on a large outcropping of rock. The tide swirled heedless around his feet. "I need to - there's still so much - ..." 

"I understand, but the mission objective was to clean the beach for two hours. We did that. You have continued, but you must understand this is not a task that can ever be 100% completed." Medix tried to adopt a soothing voice, but Wedge just looked more upset about it. 

"I found medical waste. What is wrong with the humans? Even if they don't care about animals, they should care about themselves. What are they going to eat when they kill everything in the sea with this kind of stuff? Even the tiny plastic. Plankton eats it, then fish eat the plankton, then humans eat the fish full of plastic. You're a doctor, you tell me, that's not healthy, right?" 

Medix knew Wedge's frustration and scorn came from a deep-seated place of love and upset, and put a hand soothingly on his shoulder. "Most of them don't think their contribution matters, as individuals. They can't see the bigger picture, they tell themselves it isn't that bad. Professor Boulder told me that, rather than being overwhelmed by the minuscule amount of good they can do, they would rather do nothing and ignore the situation." 

Wedge put his hands on his knees. He looked overcome by fatigue, or possibly emotion. Or both! Medix was no expert on the latter, but didn't think trudging through wet sand for six hours would do wonders for one's health _or_ mood.

"You've done enough for one day." Medix tried, "I'm asking you not as your team medical professional, but as your friend, to come back and rest. If you really feel this strongly, I'll come with you tomorrow to resume." 

The payloader frowned. "Wait... tomorrow's your day off, isn't it? Aren't you reorganizing the medical bay?" 

Medix gave him a little smile. "I usually just end up moving things around and then moving them back. I can skip a day." 

Because Wedge was covered in sand, Medix stayed with him to help dislodge the worst of it, and then walked him back to his dorm to ensure he actually got sleep. He still didn't seem completely enthusiastic about it, but he was tiredly glad when Medix offered to stay with him the night as well. 

"I'm sorry, I don't know... I'm really torn up about this." Wedge confessed. 

Medix sat on the edge of the bed, encouraging Wedge to lie down. "Compassion fatigue is a known condition for rescue workers - it is as old as compassion itself, in fact. Blades has already covered it in our one-on-one tutoring." 

Wedge closed his eyes. "How do I stop seeing that bird over and over? And imagining other birds just like it if I don't get all the trash? My joints really hurt, too... And there's so much of it. High tide is going to bring up _another_ surge..." 

That wasn't an easy question to answer. Unlike Hot Shot, Wedge didn't compete for the thrill of winning. He competed because he was easily intimidated, and he wanted to prove himself in a way he shouldn't need to. Unlike Whirl, Wedge wasn't motivated by amusement and novelty. He simply did... what he felt he had to do. And unlike Hoist, Wedge solved problems directly, rather than laterally. He pushed them until they gave, or he did. Medix knew trying to convince him into new hobbies and interests outside of work would have to come naturally and over a long period of time. 

Until now, singleminded-processing hadn't been a problem. Wedge's stubbornness, by and large, had even been a virtue, getting him into the Academy against all caste odds. But now he was really struggling to make anything of this and Medix wasn't sure what tack to take to help him. 

Seized by inspiration, they asked, "Did you spend much time in Neo Argon, on Cybertron?" At Wedge's slight headshake, Medix continued, "There's an old folk legend about Micronus there. Everyone's heard the ones about how they stole fire from the sun to paint biolights on the Cybertronians, and helped Amalgamous mix quicksilver into the first t-cogs... but in the days when the Insecticons ruled that part of the continent, Micronus and a band of minicons found an injured Insecticon separated from the hive. The others wanted to kill her, because they understood the Insecticons to be a danger to Cybertronians after so much territory had already been stolen from the Insecticons. But Micronus refused to let anyone harm the Insecticon and even stayed with her through the next few nights, only leaving when it was obvious that the Insecticon's condition had improved. Micronus didn't think anything of being a few days late, and soon forgot all about it." 

Wedge was listening, appreciating the first story-time in ages since he'd been on Cybertron, and his engine had finally stopped running hot and upset and _audible._

Encouraged, Medix went on, "One day several years later, Micronus had a bet with Unicron that they could cross Kaon's Acid Wastes in a day without any tools, ships, or transformation. Unicron bet a very important cure for a deadly plague that was threatening minicons, so it was important. Micronus had made the bet without knowing how to manage it, and when they climbed up into the Acid Wastes, they realized why nobody tried to cross the mountains on foot. A few hours before they were to lose the bet, who should they meet but the insecticon they had watched over. This time she was in good health, and gave Micronus a ride, and--well, the rest of the story is fairly obvious." 

"And the moral is obvious, too." Wedge remarked, "Little things that don't mean anything to you mean a lot in the long run. For good and bad. But how do I stop feeling so awful about not being able to change _all of it?_ "

Medix sighed. "We don't become Rescue Bots thinking we can help everyone. That is only the ideal; the reality is that some people will die. Some homes will be destroyed. Some battles are lost, and we will not live long enough to see the outcome of the war. But, fortunately, we're _not_ alone. At least with me, you won't ever be alone, Wedge. You need to value yourself more, and I'm here to remind you of that." 

Wedge sat up, and engulfed Medix in a bear hug. "Thank you." 

"Oh, we're hugging now." Medix accepted this, "Certainly, Wedge. You have perfect arms for this activity."

Wedge drew Medix close, turning onto his side and spooning the smaller Cyb, who curled receptively into him. "I love you, buddy." 

"That's extraordinary." Medix observed, and then. "And, the feeling is reciprocated, as well."


	2. Chapter 2

Medix updated their ‘Statistics on Beach Cleaning’ document, logging another 1.75 bags of trash retrieved, which was much less than the previous week. They added a small side note that there was less trash _overall_ , though a recent storm system would likely churn up more in the coming days and weeks. 

Wedge was down there on the water’s edge many evenings of the week, and the seagulls had begun to associate his bronzy-orange presence with scraps of food, so they landed nearby and made laughing cries in his direction. Medix also spared some of their free time that they would otherwise be spending on television programs to come assist, although Boulder knew nothing about it.

The Professor may have offered them extra credit, but neither Wedge nor Medix was doing it for personal reward. Wedge had become enamored of the seaside environment, and very protective, while Medix had become enamored and protective of Wedge. In addition, picking up the garbage made it much easier to find what Medix was calling ‘Anthropocene artifacts’. In amongst what was recyclable and disposable, Medix found all sorts of things of value specifically to them, or to be passed along to Hoist and Whirl for their human museum. Doll arms, small bottles, game pieces, and an intriguing amount of plastic bricks, what Cody called ‘Lego’. 

Medix took great joy in cataloguing it all, and was even making inroads to mapping potential currents that brought the objects to the shore, to the point that they looked forward to the beach visits. As unfortunate as it was that there was waste at all, there were yet methods to cope with it... 

Wedge knocked on their doorframe. “I’m gonna go do a beach run,” He offered, “Would you like to come with me?” 

“Absolutely.” Medix followed Wedge to the groundbridge, and in short order was indulging in the mindfulness of picking up pieces of bike tire, disposable gloves, and ghost nets from errant fishing boats. Much of the smaller marine debris was difficult even for human fingers to come to grips with, but with a scoop, Medix could get the bulk of the dried seaweed and sort-slash-analyze it later. 

“If only a greater percentage of the wrack was metallic.” Medix tapped their chin with one hand. “I could then much more efficiently collect it by way of magnetism.” 

“It’d be best if we could stop it going into the ocean at all.” Wedge picked up a broken lightbulb, disposing of the shards along with the base into a canvas bag. “Glass smooths out if it’s left long enough, but the humans can’t depend on it. And--” 

He rounded the cliffside, and stopped, face to face with a small field trip’s worth of schoolchildren. He stared, immediately drawing a blank for action, and several of the children gathered round within moments, excitedly chattering and calling out ‘robot!’ and ‘scoop!’ Medix stopped partway back, recognizing the value of discretion and disguise, but then noticed that the adult supervising the outing was Frankie Greene, one of Cody’s friends. She was not a teacher, but a marine biologist, and likely she was there to help them learn about the tides and ocean animals.

She was also in on their secret. 

“Children, give the big robot space!” Frankie urged, “He might be shy. Remember what we learned in class last week.” 

Dutifully the children all recited, “Always ask to touch or hug!” 

One of the little human bytes, more bold than the rest, held up both arms and addressed Wedge directly. “Can I hug?”

“Uhm...” Wedge hesitated still, but after a few moments, reached down to reciprocate a careful hug. “I gotcha. I’m Wedge, I’m here to clean up the beach. It’s a top secret mission, so you can’t tell anyone about it, okay?”

The children looked mostly delighted to be let in on such a secret. The payloader was starting to enjoy the idea of this, backing off to show the kids what kind of trash was dangerous for them to touch and what they could look for and pick up. Medix also introduced themself solemnly, making fast friends with one of the most shy children in the class, according to Frankie. 

“And you never know what the tide brings, especially after storms have had a chance to churn up the hidden depths.” Medix indicated, reaching down “Like this cookie tin.” 

Wedge felt abrupt warning signals blare in his head, turning from his attempt to answer ‘what was the difference between a sea urchin and a sea anemone’, and took two steps toward Medix.

“Don’t touch that!”

Medix’s trust in Wedge was, essentially, absolute. They froze obediently, but did feel compelled to ask, “--Why not?” 

“There’s--it’s--” Wedge was almost 100% sure, and the _almost_ came solely from his perfectionist personality. “Something you need to deal with while I get the kids someplace else.” 

Medix recognized that urgency as Wedge turned back to the children and kept his voice _very_ controlled, very pleasant, “Who wants a ride in a payloader scoop?” 

Medix looked down at the ‘cookie tin’. Landmine. Of course. And they’d very nearly just grabbed it out of the surf where it lay innocuously. _Dang it, Wedge._ Medix was a field-trained physician taking on a secondary master in xenobiology, _not_ a bomb squad technician.

But it was most important to get the kids to safety, and also Frankie, who was actually approaching.

“Ma’am, please keep your distance. This is a potential explosive device.” Medix warned her, “It would do a great deal of damage to your internal skeleton.” 

Frankie paused, “You’re taking a risk for something that isn’t even a product of one of your species’ wars. This is my responsibility.”

“--Do you know how to defuse these? Or are you putting yourself at risk for an illogical, emotionally based reason?” Medix’s voice went a little higher, a little more anxious. “I cannot heal injuries inflicted by these devices. You would die, Ms. Greene.” 

“Do _you_ know how to defuse it?” Frankie asked in return, laying her hands on the mine, “It’s been kicking around the ocean for decades without going off. I like my odds.” 

“I dislike your odds.” Medix argued. “I understand that bakelite and other synthetic materials degrade over time, and--”

Frankie had a pocket knife, and was slipping it up under the lip of the landmine, jimmying what to Medix’s untrained eye looked like a small rear headlight, red glass of some kind? - and then the pressure pad.

For several moments, Medix’s cooling cycles locked in anticipation of a very bad ending. Nothing happened, and Frankie gradually relaxed as well. 

“How did you know that would work?” Medix asked finally. 

“I didn’t.” Frankie admitted. “But given what we know about currents and wave patterns, I think we need to cordon this area off for a little while and keep an eye on it, in case there are any more.”

Wedge re-emerged from the groundbridge, appearing incredibly relieved that they were both intact, and embraced Medix. “Good work.” 

“It was Dr. Greene.” Medix gave credit, but also returned the hug, growing more used to these displays of affection and finding that they quite looked forward to them. They hadn’t realized yet that they could initiate a hug, and Wedge was being patient with them, besides.

“Wedge,” Medix added later, when they were helping to unroll the police cordon and liaisoning with police Chief Burns, “What percentage of a large bag of trash is a landmine worth?”


End file.
